


Poor Wayfarin' Stranger

by stellarfluid (dykeabetic)



Series: show me my silver lining (i try to keep on keepin' on) [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: :) courier and veronica are best friends, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Bisexual Character, Brain Injury, Drug Addiction, Emotional Baggage, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Neopronouns, Non-Binary Courier (Fallout), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, mlm/wlw solidarity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:34:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dykeabetic/pseuds/stellarfluid
Summary: There are a few things Cain Ornigana knows about verself, and ve remembers more and more every day.Ve wished ve hadn't learned anything at all.Is ve even truly alive?
Relationships: + red lucy and maybe benny? not sure what all im gonna do with this fic, Courier & Veronica Santangelo, Male Courier/Arcade Gannon, and a bit of courier/pretty much all the confirmed bachelors, im writing a whole fic for them later, that one might not be much in this fic either but they're endgame
Series: show me my silver lining (i try to keep on keepin' on) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1917631
Kudos: 2





	Poor Wayfarin' Stranger

**Author's Note:**

> hewwo :) just a disclaimer here and now -- i am SO BAD at finishing fics! most of my fics go dormant for months or even YEARS depending on how hyperfixations pan out. so im not sure how often this will get updated but,, this is my hyperfix right now, so! and hopefully it will be for a while.
> 
> my courier, cain, is the oc i use for basically everything that uses inserts & ve's also in a few entirely original projects of mine, so if you look through my other works, you'll probably see ver a lot haha. ve's NOT A SELF INSERT, but i do project on ver A LOT. ve's agender, bisexual, and uses they/them and ve/ver/vis/verself pronouns. this fic will use the latter set, because im trying to get used to those pronouns for myself. ve also has type-one diabetes, which i will talk about A LOT because im very interested in how that would pan out in a post-nuclear wasteland.
> 
> also these are in the tags, but i'll put them here, too: CONTENT WARNINGS FOR DRUG AND ALCOHOL ABUSE, TRAUMA, AND ILLNESS. my courier is very, very sad but doesn't acknowledge it. also i've done research on what its like to have survived being shot in the head, so im incorporating some actual symptoms, so be aware of that!
> 
> anywayyyy sorry for rambling, hope you enjoy :)

There are a few things Cain knows about verself. 

  1. Ve was shot in the head.
  2. Ve has been a package courier for most of ver life.
  3. Ve barely remembers anything since before ve became a package courier. Probably because ve was shot in the head. 



Ve doesn’t remember much of anything.

Before ve woke up, ve could hear her singing. The voice and the tune was familiar. Ve knew them, ve knew them so well. Ve had always known them. Then ve woke up, and vis head hurt and ve couldn’t see and ve were in a stranger’s house in a town ve had never been to and the song was just… gone. Even now, when ve remembers that ve heard her singing in vis dreams, ve can’t seem to remember how it went, or… or who she was. The one who was singing. Ve doesn’t know who she was.

There is something terribly, terribly wrong about that. Something that sinks in ver gut like a brick. 

Ve really, truly doesn’t remember much of anything. Anything at all. To be honest, ve doesn’t remember a whole lot about the Mojave, even. General stuff, ve remembers: _“there are dangerous people, and dangerous creatures, everywhere. Always carry a gun. Always keep your eyes peeled. Trust no one. Stay on your guard”._ More specifically, ve doesn’t remember a lot about things like towns -- where they are and who lives in them -- or factions -- ve knows the NCR, of course; and the Legion; oh, ve knows the Legion. The Legion is the worst thing out there.

But… why? What did they do again? God, ve should know this. Shit. The thought of the Legion made ver sick to vis stomach and ve couldn’t even remember what made them so awful. Ve hated this so much. 

Vis head hurts so bad ve can barely think.

Ve hasn’t left Goodsprings yet. Ve doesn’t even know where ve’d go, not yet. Ve had just finished being re-taught how to do things, and Sunny Smiles had sent ver back off to the saloon, so… that’s where ve’s going. Ve doesn’t really want to do anymore talking, but… well, ve can get a drink there, so it shouldn’t be that bad. Ve’s in need of a good drink.

Now that ve thinks about it, ve knows that ve’s a good shot. Ve always has been good with a gun. But Sunny had to re-teach ver how to shoot anyway, and ve thinks that’s one of the most frustrating things ve’s ever had to do, because ve actually had trouble at first. Ve remembers how bad vis head hurt, and how vis hands shook and made it hard to aim, and how ve couldn’t see straight, and how ve missed the dumb little bottles ve was supposed to be shooting at least three times before ve managed to do it right. _God._ It should have been easy. 

But at least it gives ver a good excuse not to remember much else. If ve could forget something that has always come so easily to ver, of course ve’s not going to remember every complicated and specific little detail of the Mojave and its factions. 

Honestly, it’s a miracle ve remembers anything at all. 

The night ve was shot was a hazy blur. Ve really didn’t remember much of it. Ve knew nothing about the delivery they had been making, why anyone would have wanted it, what the Great Khans looked like or even how many of them there were. But the man in the checkered suit… there was no way Cain could forget him. His words still ring in vis ears.

_“Truth is, the game was rigged from the start.”_

What the fuck did that mean? Ve tries to figure it out, but it just makes vis head hurt more. _Shit._ Ve needs a drink so bad.

There’s an argument going on when ve gets to the saloon. Ve only half-listens to it as ve takes a seat at the bar. There’s a woman being threatened, it seems… Cain hadn’t thought of this town to be one that had that kind of drama. 

Ve stares at vis shaking hands as they rest on the bartop. Ve’s annoyed by them. They don’t need to be shaking like that. Ve clenches them into fists to make them stop. Ve doesn’t want anyone to see them shaking like that.

Ve’s too focused on vis hands that ve doesn’t notice when the woman -- the bartender -- retakes her position behind the bar. Ve doesn’t notice her at all until she speaks.

“Well, you’ve been making quite a stir,” she says, and Cain startles.

_Fuck!_

“I’m glad I finally get to meet you,” she continues, as if she didn’t even notice ver jump. Maybe she didn’t -- or maybe she’s just being polite. “Welcome to the Prospector’s Saloon. I’m Trudy.”

Ve nods. “Cain,” ve says. “What do you have to drink?”

“Well, cuttin’ right to the chase, aren’t we?” She says, smiling at ver. Ugh. “Not that I blame you. You’ve been through a lot the past couple of days, I know. Here’s what I’ve got. I’m sure I’ve got something you like.”

Ve isn’t even sure if ve _remembers_ what ve likes.

“I’ll take some whiskey,” ve says. That sounded… normal enough.

She nods at ver, hands ver a bottle; ve hands her some caps in return. Ve takes a drink. 

_God,_ yes. Ve likes whiskey. Ve had forgotten how much ve likes whiskey.

As ve drinks, ve notices how… uptight and angry Trudy seems to be. It kind of ruins the atmosphere for ver a bit; ve had come here to relax and clear vis aching goddamn head, but ve was still too sober not to be on edge along with her. Ve grimaces, knocks back another swig of whiskey, then asks:

“You were having an argument when I came in. What was that about?” 

Cain hates talking, but ve’s okay with listening. It doesn’t take much effort on vis part.

Trudy sighs, and the breath comes out of her in a big, annoyed huff. “Looks like our little town got itself dragged into the middle of something we want nothing to do with.”

 _Join the fucking club,_ ve thinks, as _“the game was rigged from the start”_ rings through ver head again. It looks like everyone’s having bad luck these days.

“Yeah?” Ve asks anyway, staring at the bottle ve has set on the counter, ver hands wrapped around its base. Ve thinks they’re done shaking now. Ve probably just needed the alcohol.

“Yeah,” Trudy says. “About a week ago, this trader -- Ringo -- comes into own. Survivor of an attack, he says. Bad men after him; needs a place to hide. We suspected he was just in shock, so we gave him a place to lie low. We didn’t expect people to actually come after him.”

Well, shit. Ve’s probably gonna have to help with this, isn’t ve? 

“So, what?” ve asks. “Are you going to do anything about it?” 

“Some of the others, like Sunny, would be willing to defend Ringo if he asked for help, which he hasn’t. Personally, I hope he sneaks off one night and takes the Powder Gangers with him.”

Ve doesn’t even know who the Powder Gangers _are._

Then again, ve guesses ve’s in Goodspring’s debt. Debt is never a good place to be -- ve can’t have any strings attached. 

So ve’s helping, ve guesses.

“Where’s Ringo now?” ve asks.

“He’s holed up in the abandoned gas station up the way.”

“And what if I help him?”

Trudy blinks, obviously caught off guard. “Well…” she says, “if you’re able to get Ringo out of this mess, you’ll have a decent reputation around the town. I’d even set you up with a discount.”

That’s all ve needs to hear. Ve finishes off vis bottle of whiskey, asks for another bottle and some vodka for the road, tosses the caps onto the counter, and leaves.

* * *

Smoke pours out of vis lungs and ve breathes out, slow and deliberate. God, ve hates talking to people. Talking to Ringo, and then talking to the rest of Goodsprings to convince them to _help_ Ringo, wasn’t necessarily bad, but it was, well… a lot. Vis head hurt. Talking wasn’t vis thing. Ve needed to get away.

Ve isn’t quite sure that coming _here_ was a better alternative, but ve wasn’t really thinking about it when ve came here.

The Goodsprings cemetery.

Ve finishes the cigarette on vis way in, and drops it to the sand and snuffs it with vis foot. Ve scans the cemetery with tired eyes, before they land on… on…

Vis grave. Ve almost feels sick just looking at it. Ve walks up to it anyway. 

Ve had been shot there. _Killed_ there. Buried there. Ve can still see vis own dried blood on the ground in and around the grave itself. Ve had gotten vis _brains blown out._ Ve had literally been in the ground.

Ve doesn’t know much about verself anymore, but ve knows ve’s jaded. Not much can phase ver. This does. Ve feels nauseous. Ve suddenly has a very clear recollection of what it feels like to have dirt pressing down on vis chest, what it feels like being unable to breathe…

God, ve should be dead. If not from the gunshot wound, then the suffocation. There is absolutely no reason why ve should still be alive. 

Deep down, ve wonders if part of ver is still lying there in the ground. Ve has felt empty since ve woke up -- other than the few moments where ve felt sick, like ve was dying, as if a lost part of ver was trying to claw its way out from deep, deep inside. When ve doesn’t feel sick, ve feels hollow, like someone scooped out their insides with a spoon and left only the outside behind. There’s a part of ver missing. Something more than the memories. Ve doesn’t know how, but ve knows it. And ve feels like this is a feeling ve’s had for a long, long time -- long before the bullet to the head. Ve thinks this hollowness might be what’s left of past sorrows. A numbness that came from an overwhelming sorrow.

There are a few things Cain knows about verself.

  1. Ve was shot in the head.
  2. Ve was a package courier for most of ver life.
  3. Part of ver is missing. This is not the first time something terrible has happened to ver.
  4. Ve barely remembers anything.




End file.
